


Seven Soulmarks

by kookitykook



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: F L U F F, Fluff, Fluffity Fluff Fluff, Interconnected Stories, OT7, Reader Insert, Soulmate AU, and everyone makes appearances in other meets too, anways pls enjoy, because im nice like that, cute joon is cute, hoseok is a spicy fashionista, ill try to post one a day, ive had these stories on my brain for a while now and now here they are, jimin is a hairstylist you're welcome for that, jin is the pun king for his chapter, leather jacket!yoongi stans unite, no but really FLUFF, please read i worked my butt off on these, soulmate aus are my sHIT i hope theyre yours too, tae is famous ooOoOo, yoongi owns a record store
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-12 19:05:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kookitykook/pseuds/kookitykook
Summary: Seven boys, seven marks, seven soulmates.At the exact moment of your twentieth birthday, the first words your soulmate will ever say to you appear in black ink on the inside of your left wrist.(Each chapter will focus on one of the boys, all seven stories are interconnected and feature appearances of the others.)The Marks:Kim Namjoon;"Woah, nice hair."Kim Seokjin;"Wow."Jung Hoseok;"Can you even breathe in those pants?"Kim Taehyung;"It's you."Min Yoongi;"I've actually never listened to Kanye West."Park Jimin;"Stop right there."Jeon Jungkook;"Loser."





	1. Namjoon; "Woah, nice hair."

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys like these. I'll do my best to post a new chapter each day! Kudos and comments mean literally everything to me.  
> ~kookitykook

**NAMJOON**

“Relax, will you?” Jin nudged Namjoon’s shoulder, but Namjoon just shrugged him away, staring down at the inside of his left wrist with startling intensity. “Staring at it isn’t going to make your mark show up any sooner, you know.”

“I know,” Namjoon snapped, looking away from his wrist long enough to roll his eyes at Jin. “I’m just excited.”

“Alright, alright,” Jin murmured, taking a long drink from his beer. “What time were you born again?”

“11:42,” Namjoon replied, his foot tapping relentlessly on the carpet in Jin’s living room. “I’ll officially be twenty in the next sixty seconds. Gah, I can’t believe it’s finally happening!”

Namjoon stood to his feet in a rush, running his hands through his messy brown hair with a semi-manic grin on his face.

“I can’t believe it, Jin. I’ve been waiting on this my whole life. What do you think her first words to me will be?”

“Probably something along the lines of ‘Wow, what a tall dork.’”

“Oh shut up.”

“Or more likely, “What’s the name of your wildly handsome friend?’”

“Screw you, Jin.”

“Add 'I want,' to the beginning of that sentence and you can bet that your soulmate will say that at some point — _hey_ , _ow_ , stop hitting me! Watch the face, _watch the face_!” 

Namjoon huffed, hitting Jin in the shoulder one more time for good measure before flopping back onto his usual spot on the couch.

“You know I hate to break it to you, but getting prepared for your soulmark doesn’t give you an excuse to act like a psycho” Jin muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder from where Namjoon had knocked him to the ground.

“Oh like you didn’t get nervous about your soulmark?”

“Of course I did, but I didn’t hit my friends, _in case you don’t recall_.”

Namjoon huffed, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his breathing. Of course Jin hadn’t been worried when he got his soulmark on his twentieth birthday a few months prior. Jin was likable, had a stable job, was unreasonably handsome (and he knew it, too), and was honestly a total catch of a guy. Top of the line for sure. Which was why the mark on his wrist just said, ‘ _Wow_.’

Namjoon on the other hand … wasn’t quite where he wanted to be for his soulmate just yet. A philosophy major with a steadily rising pile of student debt, a part-time job at a small cafe that barely paid rent, no long-term career prospects on his horizon, and not to mention he didn’t exactly find himself anywhere near the level of Kim Seokjin handsomeness, despite his friends telling him otherwise.

He simply didn’t find himself to be a catch the way that Jin was. And even though he hadn’t met his soulmate yet, he wanted to be _great_ when he finally did meet them. But if he met them before getting his life together (whatever that even meant), there was _no telling_ what your first words to him would be. And he was honestly scared to know.

“Hey. Hey. _Namjoon_!”

Namjoon startled back to reality, blinking up at Jin as he refocused. He’d been staring at the coffee table before him, lost in his thoughts.

“What?” he snapped. “I’m sorry alright, I shouldn’t have hit you, I know you’re sensitive and bruise like a peach.”

Jin made a strangled noise of objection. “I — Not true! I was just going to tell you to look at your wrist you idiot!”

“What, I — oh shit!”

Namjoon jumped up the second he spotted the black lines on his wrist. In the process, he slammed his knee into the coffee table, promptly losing his balance and toppling to the floor.

Jin’s laugh resounded through the apartment along with Namjoon’s curses and scrambling noises as he pulled himself to a sitting position on the floor and held his wrist right up to his face.

“Well?” Jin asked, gasping for breath as he spoke between chortles. “Was I right? Does your soulmate ask about me?”

“Woah, nice hair.”

“Well, I … yes, yes I know I have nice hair. But what’s your soulmark say?”

“ _No_ , you moron. It literally says, ‘woah, nice hair.’”

Jin was silent for a moment before snorting. Namjoon glared. “Sorry. It’s just … _really_? _You_?”

Namjoon self-consciously raised his non-marked hand to his hair when Jin looked up at the top of his head disbelievingly.

His hair wasn’t … _bad,_ per se.

It was just … normal. Black, straight, mid-forehead length bangs. He’d never dyed it, so it was relatively healthy he guessed. Honestly, Namjoon had paid zero attention to his hair until that very moment.

And now, with 'Woah, nice hair,' staring back at him with no other context, Namjoon could think of absolutely nothing _but_ his hair.

He looked up at Jin with such wild eyes that his roommate leaned away with quite the shocked face.

“I need you to book me an appointment with your hairstylist for tomorrow morning.”

*******

“How much longer?” you whined, tapping your nails on the counter of your best friend's music shop that you spent far too much of your time in.

Yoongi huffed, pointedly ignoring you as he flipped through a box of the new records that had just come in.

“Five minutes less than the last time you asked me that, Y/N,” he said in his typical bored tone that you had learned not to take offense to. “Why don’t you just wear a watch?”

“I’m not going to cover up the spot where my soulmark is going to appear,” you scoffed.

Yoongi just raised his eyebrow at you. “You could always … I don’t know, wear a watch on your right wrist instead of your left?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Yoongs.” You ignored his protests as you hopped up onto the counter beside the register. “What do you think it’s going to say? You know I’ve been dreaming about this moment for the past twenty years,” you said with a wistful sigh.

“And did this dream involve you loitering in my shop during the exact moment you turn twenty years old?”

“ _No_ ,” you shot back. “I never cared about the place I was at when my mark appears, I wasn’t one of those people that plans a party around it or anything. I just … I always tried to imagine what the words might be, you know?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi murmured, setting the box of records onto the ground and deciding to placate you, giving you his full attention. “I remember when mine showed up. I was pretty anxious, too.”

You smiled as you looked over at your best friend. Best friend and nothing more, because the words on his wrist were definitely not the first words you had ever said to him when the two of you had met a year and a half prior. The words on Yoongi’s wrist read, ‘ _I’ve actually never listened to Kanye West_ ,’ whereas your first words to him had been, ‘ _Stop judging me for this Jonas Brothers album_.’

Yoongi had yet to meet his soulmate, which was why he constantly found ways to casually bring up Kanye in discussion with most of the customers. 

“Hey.” You reached over and shoved Yoongi lightly on the shoulder. “Your soulmate will show up soon. Right when you need them to.”

Yoongi’s smile was shy, but thankful.

“Hey, you know what else is showing up?”

“What?” you asked.

“Your soulmark. Look down, punk.”

With a start, you jumped off the counter and brought your wrist up to your face. 

Sure enough … there it was. Your soulmark. The thing you had been waiting your whole life for, the thing you dreamed about, the very words that the person you were destined to be with would say to you. 

“Well?” Yoongi asked, coming around the counter to stand in front of you, who was clearly speechless. “Come on, don't be quiet now. Tell me, what’s it say?”

“No.”

“Y/N, you’re seriously not going to tell me? I’ve listening to you rant about this moment since I met you, you can’t actually—”

“My soulmark says, ‘ _no_ ,’ Yoongi. Just … ‘no.’”

“What?” Yoongi grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from your face to examine it himself. You let him, staring into empty space as your head filled with white noise. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “Ah Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

It was well known that the worst kind of soulmark you could get was a one-word mark. You’d heard countless horror stories of people constantly misidentifying their soulmate because their marks said something like ‘yes,’ ‘sure,’ ‘okay,’ ‘there,’ or in your case …

‘ _No_.’

“Hey, don’t cry, it’s going to be okay.”

You let Yoongi pull you into a hug, and it was only then that you realized that there were silent tears running down your cheeks. This realization only led to you choking on a sob, clutching onto Yoongi’s leather jacket and burying your face in his neck.

“My stupid soulmate is going to be monosyllabic!” you cried. 

“No he’s not, don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi murmured, though not unkindly as he ran his hands over your hair.

“He’s going to hate me! I’ll probably speak to him first and he’ll realize I’m his soulmate and then look at me and just say, ‘no.’ I’m already being rejected!”

“Aish, relax, would you?” Yoongi pushed you back, hands resting on your shoulders. “You have absolutely no idea what context you’re going to meet your soulmate in. It could be anything, don’t set yourself up for failure just yet.”

You sniffled, running your hand across your cheeks to wipe away the tears.

“It was supposed to be something romantic,” you muttered. “Something like, ‘ _wow, look at you_ ,’ or ‘ _I’m the luckiest guy in the world._ ’”

Yoongi laughed, embracing you once again and kissing the top of your head. “You might have set your standards kind of high there, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Look, you can’t let this control the rest of your life,” he said seriously, making sure you were looking him in the eye. “Your soulmate is not your identity. You’re still _you_ , first and foremost. You're going to hear that word on your wrist all the time, but you just have to put it to the back of your mind. He’s your soulmate, you punk. If your mark makes it so hard to find him, then just trust him to find _you_.”

Yoongi’s words struck a cord in you.

He was right. You had spent so much time in your twenty years of life dreaming about your soulmate — ever since you had learned about soulmarks, really.

But you hadn’t spent much time dreaming about your own self. About who you could be.

Your soulmate was not your identity.

“You’re right,” you murmured, taken aback by the depth of what Yoongi had just shown you about yourself.

Yoongi seemed taken aback as well. “Damn. Can I get that in writing?”

“Oh hush.” You slapped at his chest, making him chuckle. “Really though, you’re completely right. I can’t let the mark control my life now. It’s not what I expected, sure, but … I’ll be fine. He’ll find me.”

You took a deep breath, nodding to yourself.

“He’ll find me.”

***

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

Namjoon strolled down the familiar city streets with a small, borderline mischievous smile on his face. A few men and women gave him a double-take, which only made his chest swell with pride. 

It had been just over five years since his soulmark showed up, and honestly, it was the best thing that could have happened to him. Even though he had yet to meet the person he was destined to be with, the person who would say those three words on his wrist, the incentive that the mark gave him to do a total rehaul of his life had changed … everything.

The morning after his soulmark appeared, Namjoon had gone straight to Jin’s usual hairstylist. He didn’t know how he was going to meet his soulmate, but he did know that he was going to have damn good hair whenever it happened — good enough to make his soulmate say, ‘ _Woah, nice hair._ ’

The stylist had done his job well, giving Namjoon a fresh undercut and silver dye job. Namjoon had paid extra (which had been a struggle at the time, but worth it in the long run) for the stylist to teach him how to style his hair in all the latest male hair trends.

And somehow, just getting that fresh cut and learning how to properly coif his hair to show off his striking facial features gave him a new confidence he didn’t know was possible for someone like him.

That confidence had followed him into his small cafe job, where his renewed attitude had earned him significantly more tips, which allowed him to go on a proper shopping spree with his friend Hoseok and get clothes that showed off his quite admirable body.

(It's worth noting that Hoseok’s soulmark read, ‘ _Can you even breathe in those pants?_ ’)

Suddenly, Namjoon realized that … he was attractive. Honestly he was _fine as hell,_ and had been fine as hell even before the new hair and new clothes and new posture, but all of those added bonuses had certainly upped the ante.

This revelation brought Namjoon to his first officially published philosophy paper, which examined the correlation between inward confidence and outward societal beauty conventions. It wasn’t exactly a new topic in the philosophy world, but his take on it had been fresh enough to get him published in a journal.

Since then, he was on the rise. He had a killer job with a public relations company, helping rising businesses create professional and adequate vision statements — a job that made him plenty of money to maintain his new lifestyle.

Honestly, Namjoon felt like he had made it. All the things he was worried about leading up to the day he had received his soulmark had changed for the better. Except for actually meeting that soulmate, of course. But aside from that, Namjoon’s life was _good_. 

And his hair was _always_ immaculate.

Literally always.

Every. Single. Day.

He didn’t know when he was going to meet his soulmate, but he did know that any day his hair didn’t look great was a day that he _wasn’t_ going to be meeting his soulmate.

So every single day he made sure to wake up with plenty of time to put every hair in place where it needed to be, shiny and styled up and away from his face in the sleekest quiff anyone had ever seen.

He changed his hair color relatively often as well, wanting to keep it fresh and interesting enough to invite his soulmate to comment on it. Some of his favorites had been the silver, the platinum blonde, and the lavender shades.

And he got plenty of compliments on his hair. Almost daily.

But no one had said the exact words, ‘ _Woah, nice hair_ ,’ to him just yet.

So Namjoon made sure to keep his hair game strong. He didn’t care if Jin or Hoseok or any of his other friends teased him about his specific grooming habits, it gave him confidence and ensured that he at least _could_ be meeting his soulmate that day.

Which was why on that beautiful, sunny morning in the city, Namjoon was heading to his personal stylist to get a trim and dye job. He visited Jimin every two weeks, and didn’t trust anyone else to touch his hair.

(Jimin’s soulmark read, ‘ _Stop right there_.’ The hairstylist typically kept his mark covered with a thick bracelet, but Namjoon had caught sight of it once while Jimin had been washing his hands. He didn't ask.)

“Namjoon!” Jimin called out as Namjoon stepped through the door of his salon, the bell ringing above him. It was Sunday morning, and Jimin’s salon was usually closed at that time but he had accidentally overbooked for the Monday that Namjoon usually visited him, so decided to let him come in when the shop was empty. “Come on in, I’ve got everything prepped for you.”

“You’re … unusually chipper,” Namjoon noted, taking a seat in his usual chair. 

Jimin just grinned, his eyes looking like crescent moons as he flicked his pink hair across his forehead. “I met my soulmate,” he said, his smile evident even in his voice.

“Really?” Namjoon exclaimed, his eyes flitting to Jimin’s wrist, which was intentionally exposed for once. “Tell me all about it!”

And Jimin did. Namjoon’s hair color at that moment was already platinum, so Jimin was able to put the dye straight in, working from the ends up to the roots. Namjoon listened quietly as Jimin detailed the pleasant surprise that was his soulmate meeting.

It only made Namjoon a little jealous that Jimin had his soulmate. It seemed like all of his friends were finding their destined person only for him to still be waiting — despite the fact that he put so much work into being prepared for their meeting.

First it was Jin a few months ago with his now-fiancee, and then Jungkook at the bar just last week. And Jungkook was only twenty-one! The little brat had had his mark for barely one full year and had already had met his soulmate. 

And now Jimin, too? Namjoon was _lonely_. All of the success, the confidence in his looks, it was great and all, but what he wanted most was to share it with someone. To have someone that he connected with perfectly, the way the universe intended. He wanted his face to light up like Jimin’s was right then.

“Oh, sorry,” Jimin said suddenly as his phone rang right in the middle of his story about his soulmate photographing a puppy or … something. “I’ve got to take this, give me just one second.”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

Jimin pulled off his gloves and answered his cell, greeting his mother as he headed towards the door. The little bell over the salon door chimed as he stepped outside for some privacy.

Namjoon took a deep breath, running his hands over his face and glancing at himself in the mirror. He snorted, laughing at the sight of his normally perfect hair covered in thick, wet purple dye and sticking out in a bunch of crazy directions all over his head.

The price for beauty and all that.

“ _Hey_!”

Namjoon looked up and out the glass door to see Jimin being shoved to the ground by a guy with a black mask on. The man grabbed Jimin’s phone straight from his hand and then took off in a sprint.

“ _Hey that’s my phone! Get back here_!”

Namjoon jumped to his feet, tearing off the black cover keeping his clothes safe from the dye and running to the door. Jimin was already tearing down the street at full-speed, screaming for passerby to stop the thief that had just snatched his phone.

Namjoon flung open the door to run after his friend without a second thought, not even thinking to see if anyone was about to walk past.

The body he slammed into went careening to the ground with his entire weight on them as he and the stranger both fell to the sidewalk in a crashing heap. 

*******

You were late to work.

It was a common occurrence honestly, it shouldn’t have made you as anxious as it did considering that this happened at least once every two weeks. But Yoongi had been on edge lately ever since his soulmate had found out she was pregnant, so you didn’t want to give him any more reason to be testy with you.

It wasn’t like you _tried_ to be late. You loved your job — opening the record store’s second location with Yoongi and his soulmate six months ago was one of the best things that had ever happened to you, but mornings were hard and you hated them.

You especially hated mornings where you woke up only to realize that you were out of coffee. Which meant your feet had been dragging extra slowly as you got ready and before you knew it you were fifteen minutes behind schedule.

The city was still new to you considering you only moved there seven months ago right before the record store’s new opening, and you typically stuck to the same route to work in order to avoid getting lost.

But running as late as you were that morning, you decided to put your faith and trust in Apple Maps and try a hopefully quicker way to the store.

You were staring down at your phone as you walked, paying close attention to the moving blue dot to make sure you were going the right way when it happened.

It was like being hit by a freaking train.

One second you were walking, cursing the universe for your lack of caffeine (which was all your fault, but blaming the universe was easier), and the next second you were being _practically football tackled to the sidewalk_.

All the breath was knocked out of you, your phone went flying off in some direction, and you were being crushed by a _very large man_. You wanted to curse or yell or something, but honestly at that point you were just … so done. So tired.

You flopped your head back onto the sidewalk and groaned, opening one eye to look up at the annoyingly large man who had just knocked you to the ground and was currently laying on top of you, staring down at you in shock.

And he looked … _utterly ridiculous_.

You couldn’t help the snort that came out of you as you looked up at his hair, which was covered in purple goop and sticking out in like a hundred directions.

You took note of the worried, open-mouthed expression on his face and that just made you laugh harder, because you immediately started likening him to a fish with funny purple scales. A cute fish, but … also a _ridiculous_ looking fish.

“Woah,” you said with another snort, “nice hair.”

The man went rigid above you. His eyes widened and he threw himself off of you so fast he tripped himself up and sprawled out on his side on the sidewalk. That didn’t stop him from scrambling up to his feet as you groaned and propped yourself up on your elbows, eyeing him warily. Was he having a seizure or something?

“Dude, are you okay?” you asked, reaching over and grabbing your phone. You cursed under your breath when you saw that the screen was shattered. The man was still gaping at you, blinking rapidly. 

“No.”

Your heart lurched at the simple word, but you shoved the feeling down easily — you'd had to deal with this almost every day after all. You heard the words on your wrist all the time, but had learned to push the excitement away since it had been five years and your _actual_ soulmate had yet to say that word to you. 

“Yeah you don’t really look alright,” you muttered, pushing yourself to stand. You brushed off your pants, ignoring weird-hair guy who was still staring at you. “I’m fine by the way, thanks for asking. You know, since you just shoved me to the ground and all?”

“No, _no_ , this isn’t happening.”

“It’s fine, man. I mean this morning was already _super sucky_ , so you know, this is kind of adding to that, but it’s cool. It’s not like—”

“No, no, this is _not_ how we were supposed to meet,” he cut you off abruptly. “You’re telling me after all this time, all this work and — and _that’s_ how you say the words?”

You froze.

He couldn’t possibly mean that he was …

You glanced down at his wrist. He followed your line of vision, slowly turning over his hand to show you his soulmark.

 _Woah, nice hair_.

You blinked, looking from his mark to his face to his mark again to his _wildly hilarious_ hair to his face again.

It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together. Clearly your soulmate had read your first words to him and as a result took the time and energy to always keep his hair fresh and up to date, only for you to say the words when he definitely _didn’t_ have nice hair.

The thought made you want to laugh.

But you didn’t laugh. What you _did_ do was reach out and pinch his arm as hard as you could.

“Ow!” your soulmate yelped, jumping back and clutching his quickly reddening skin. “What was that for?!”

“Do you have any idea how often people say ‘ _no’_ to me?!” you shouted, holding your wrist up to your soulmate’s face. His eyes widened as he read the single word. “‘Hey, do you know where the restroom is?’ ‘ _No_.’ ‘Does this store offer cash back?’ ‘ _No_.’ ‘Am I at the right bus stop?’ ‘ _No_.’ No, no, no, _no_!” You marched into your soulmate’s space, narrowing your eyes at him and pointing at his nose. “I’ll have you know, soulmate of mine, that you have made the past five years very,  _very_ stressful for me!”

He blinked a few times, clearly a little scared of you, but then came to his senses. “My name is _Namjoon_ ,” he snapped, pushing your finger away from his face. “And I’ve made _your_ life stressful? Do you have any idea how much time and money I’ve put into my hair for five years? Only for you to say the words to _this_?” His voice was shrieky as he pointed at his wet, purple, spiky hair.

 _Namjoon_ , you thought to yourself. His name sounded … right. Which didn’t make any sense, but you blamed it on the whole two-parts-of-the-same-star-finding-one-another soulmate thing.

You blinked back to the matter at hand. Namjoon was still practically fuming as he pointed up at his hair, but you could tell by the flush of his cheeks that he was more embarrassed than anything.

“I …” You breathed out through your nose, collecting yourself. “You know, this is not how I always dreamed my soulmeet would go.”

Namjoon tensed up at the vulnerability in your voice.

“Ah shit,” he muttered, starting to run his hand through his hair like he always did when nervous, but caught himself at the last second. “I’m … I’m sorry. I — shit, I can’t believe this. You’re my soulmate and here I am yelling at you.”

“And tackling me to the ground, don’t forget about that.”

Namjoon winced. “Yeah … I’m sorry. My hairstylist, Jimin, he just got mugged and I was running out to go help and then you were there and I … yeah.”

“He was _mugged_?” you gasped. “It’s not even noon! Who gets mugged in broad daylight?!”

“That’s what I was thinking! I just looked over and he—”

“ _Namjoon_!”

“Speak of the devil …”

Jimin was sweaty and out of breath as he ran up to you and Namjoon, phone in hand and a dopey, but exhausted smile on his face.

“I got him!” he exclaimed, holding up his phone and then promptly letting out a heavy whoosh of air and leaning over his knees. “Knocked over like five people in the process, but I got him.” He stood up straight, eyes wide as he finally took notice of you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” you said awkwardly with a small wave.

“Oh,” Namjoon started. “Shit, sorry. Jimin this is …” he trailed off, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing even more red as he looked back at you. “I don’t even know your name, I’m so sorry. _Shit_ I’m the worst soulmate _ever_.”

“This is your soulmate?” Jimin shrieked, looking back at you. “I was gone for five minutes!” He looked back at Namjoon, eyes flicking up to his hair, then to his wrist, then back to his hair.

It took about four seconds for Jimin to connect the dots and then promptly burst into laughter.

“Shut up!” Namjoon shouted, running his hands over his face. You couldn’t help but join in on the hairstylist’s cackling. “This is not the meetcute I was promised!”

“You’re telling me!” you said back to him. “If you think I’m going to let you live down tackling me to the ground for our soulmeet, you have a surprise future coming for you, _Namjoon_.”

Jimin didn’t even know the context of your words, but he doubled over in such raucous laughter he just flat out sat down on the sidewalk.

Namjoon huffed, watching as you continued to laugh with his friend at the situation. A strange sense of fondness swelled in his chest, and he finally took the time to really _look_ at you.

Your smile was like Jimin’s — one of those that took over your whole face. And when you laughed, you placed your hand over your stomach as if to try and contain the giggles. You were dressed comfortably, and just from your short interaction with him he could tell that you were comfortable in your own skin — comfortable with _yourself_.

And yeah, you had been snappy with him. But not cruel. Teasing, not ridiculing.

And your words about a future with him … woah. It was really hitting him now.

 _This is my soulmate_ , he thought to himself. _This is my person_.

He soaked in the moment, setting aside his own embarrassment and allowing himself to really feel that this was a huge turning point in his life — the _best_ turning point in his life.

You looked up at him then, still smiling and giggling as Jimin laughed at his friend’s predicament. Your smile made Namjoon’s heart stutter a beat.

He chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair.

Which led to him getting purple hair dye all over his palm and fingers.

“Ack!”

You burst into even more laughter at that.

Oh, your soulmate was going to be a good one. 


	2. Jungkook; "Loser."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeon Jungkook spent age six to seventeen being taunted by the word "loser" at school. Graduation was his light at the end of the miserable tunnel lined by bullies, and he finally comes into his own in college, finding solid friends who love and encourage him well. The word "loser" no longer hangs over his head. He is free of his childhood bullies and their taunting words. 
> 
> Until his soulmark appears, and that very word that he loathes stares back at him in startling black ink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings; bullying (nothing violent), mentions of death. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this installment of my soulmate series! Comments and kudos are VERY appreciated!
> 
> ~kookitykook

**JUNGKOOK**

Jeon Jungkook was six years old the first time someone called him a loser. 

It had been during a spelling bee. It was only the first grade, so the words had been simple things like “park,” “tall,” “flower,” or “here.”

In Jungkook’s case, the first word he was given by his teacher had been “soul.”

“S - O - W - L.”

The other students had immediately burst out laughing. Jungkook could feel his ears turning red as he looked at all of their faces, their laughter becoming crueler with each second of his confusion.

“Oh I’m so sorry Jungkook,” his teacher had said. “Soul is actually spelled S - O - U - L. I’m afraid you’ve lost this time around, you can go sit in your seat.”

“Haha, Jungkook is the first one out!” One of the boys had shouted. Jungkook whipped his head over to look at him, only to be met with the bully’s gap-toothed smirk and a greasy finger pointed in his direction. “Loser!”

The word struck something deep in Jungkook’s chest, a chord that he never wanted to be played.

How were they being so mean? The other kids in his class were laughing along with the bully, despite their teacher trying to calm them down. Jungkook didn’t understand … He was fine with losing the spelling bee, but now with all of his classmates calling him that word — _loser_ — he felt smaller than ever, and he was a small child to begin with.

His mother had always told him she loved his quiet, sensitive heart.

But Jungkook’s heart didn’t seem to love him back that day.

And the tears rolling down his puffy cheeks only cemented the taunting nickname for the rest of his school years.

***

_“What’s up, loser?”_

_“Nice jacket, loser.”_

_“Hey loser, can I copy your notes?”_

These kinds of off-handed remarks were part of Jungkook’s daily school routine from that fateful day of the spelling bee all the way to his last day of high school. As much as Jungkook begged his family to let him switch schools as a child, it just wasn’t possible for them because of his father’s job.

Eventually, he stopped asking and just accepted his fate.

It didn’t mean the name-calling ever hurt any less.

Jungkook knew that he was sensitive, and he tried to grow thicker skin, he really did. But he also didn’t really _want_ to change. He liked who he was, he just didn’t understand why nobody _else_ did.

“Hey loser!”

Jungkook sighed, dropped his head to his chest at the unfortunately familiar voice of that same bully who coined his nickname after the spelling bee in the first grade. 

“Oh come on loser, don’t be like that,” the bully said with a cruel laugh, leaning against Jungkook’s locker. “We graduate tomorrow! Lose the long face for once!”

 _I only have a long face because you treat me like shit_ , Jungkook thought to himself. But of course he didn’t say it out loud.

People had been mean to him for the past eleven years, but he never could bring himself to be mean back. He knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel and eventually one day no one would call him ‘loser.’ So he just had to survive and be kind until he got to that place.

“Graduation, yeah,” Jungkook said with a nod and a brief glance at the bully. “Can’t wait.”

“That’s the spirit!” the bully shouted, hitting Jungkook in the shoulder hard enough to push him into the door of his locker with a wince. “Last day, loser! Woo!”

Jungkook couldn’t help but wince again as the bully shouted right in his ear and then gave him a noogie before striding off down the hallway to possibly terrorize someone else.

“Last day,” he whispered to himself, closing his high school locker for the last time. “It can only get better from here.”

***

And it _did_. College was the best thing that could have ever happened to Jungkook. He moved to another city, went to a school where none of his high school classmates were attending, and was _finally_ able to start over.

He didn’t change anything about himself, but was finally in an environment where he could truly _be_ himself without fear. It was life-changing.

Confidence sprouted in him like a flower in bloom, and Jungkook found himself making friends, laughing with abandon, pursuing his interests with people that thought like him.

His inward confidence rippled to his outward appearance as well. He started going to the gym, which was where he met his first two close friends.

Jin and Namjoon were both seniors, but they welcomed him into their friend circle without any hesitation. And when Jin heard that Jungkook enjoyed dancing, he connected him to Hoseok, who was a junior and captain of the dance team. And just like that, the four of them were thick as thieves.

 _This_ was Jungkook’s light at the end of the tunnel. Having friends who loved and supported him and got his weird sense of humor.

And _not once_ had any of them called him a loser.

Now junior year was about to start and Jungkook had just moved out of the dorms into an apartment with Hoseok. Jin and Namjoon had both gotten their own apartments in the last year or so since they were graduated and making good money, but he and Hoseok were still typical broke college students (well, Hoseok was graduated, but was living like a broke college student while he saved up to open his own dance studio).

“Dude, did you hear about that new record shop that’s supposed to open up just down the street?”

Jungkook looked up from his phone as Hoseok spoke, his friend sorting through one of the boxes he had yet to unpack even though they’d moved in two weeks ago.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, I went by the other day to see if the space would be good for the studio, but it had just been bought. The owner’s name is Yoongi, super cool dude. He and his soulmate and some other girl were signing. Don’t know when it’ll open, but they bought the space.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Jungkook murmured even though he wasn’t really paying attention, still looking at his phone.

Hoseok scoffed, propping his elbows up on the side of the box and looking at his friend with an eyebrow cocked. “You’re not even listening to me. I need attention, Jungkookie, and you’re not giving it to me.”

Jungkook huffed, looking at Hoseok only to snort when he saw his friend pouting dramatically.

“Sorry. It’s just … my mark is about to appear.”

“Wait, what?!” Hoseok screamed, making Jungkook wince. “What the hell, dude?! I thought your birthday was tomorrow!” He grabbed his own phone, looking at the date and groaning. “Man, I’m so sorry. I got the dates mixed up, if I had known I would have—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Jungkook reassured him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal!” Hoseok’s shrieking was going to be a topic of conversation with their neighbors for _sure_. “It’s your soulmark year! What time will it show up?”

“My mom said I was born at 10:05.”

“Damn, you’ve only got … one minute! How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook shrugged, pulling at the loose threads at the end of his sweatshirt. His hair dipped down over his forehead, he would have to go to Jimin soon to get a haircut. “It feels kind of weird. That I have a soulmate out there at all.”

“Yeah, it’s trippy,” Hoseok agreed, looking down at his own wrist. “I can’t wait to meet mine though. She sounds feisty.”

Jungkook chuckled at that. He had been there when Hoseok’s mark had appeared. They’d been with Jin and Namjoon, the former laughing until he literally peed himself when Hoseok’s mark showed up and said, ‘ _Can you even breathe in those pants?_ ’

“It’s just … until I met you and the guys, I never felt like I belonged anywhere. No one understood me. And to know that there’s a girl out there — I think it’s gonna be a girl anyway — a girl that’s just going to _get_ me, it’s … it’s crazy. Aish, I’m probably overthinking it.”

“No man, this is normal,” Hoseok reassured him, reaching over and nudging him fondly. “Your soulmate is going to love you. And not just because, you know, the universe designed them to and all that, but because you’re great!”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Just then the timer on Jungkook’s phone went off. The two boys both froze, Jungkook turning over his wrist so that he and Hoseok could both look.

Nothing showed up.

“You sure you got the time right?”

“Yes I’m sure,” Jungkook snapped, but it didn’t hold any real bite. “Just give it a minute.”

“Okay, okay.”

They watched in silence, Jungkook worrying at his bottom lip. What if nothing showed up? What if he didn’t have a soulmate? What if he’d already met his soulmate? That was a nightmare scenario waiting to happen. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, the words appeared gray and were the _next_ words your soulmate would say to you.

He hoped it was someone new.

“Look!”

Jungkook jumped at the sound of Hoseok’s voice, blinking his eyes back into focus. Sure enough, black ink was slowly appearing on the inside of his left wrist.

His heart started to beat faster, and he could feel himself grinning. This was it, this was the moment he hadn’t ever really dared to dream about. His perfect match, the person who was made up of the same star stuff as him, his literally soulmate’s first words to him was going to be … 

_‘Loser.’_

Jungkook had never been skydiving before, but he had read that the very first moment you jump out of the plane, there’s a split second where your heart lurches into your chest and you just feel this overwhelming fear and _wrongness_.

He had that feeling right then. But it didn’t go away after one second.

“But … I …”

For the first time since Jungkook had met Hoseok, his friend was speechless.

“I don’t understand.”

He could feel tears rolling down his cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe them away. This couldn’t be happening. 

The words were in black ink, which meant he hadn’t met the person before, and yet his soulmate’s first word to him was going to be the word he hated most in the world? The name his classmates taunted him with for _eleven years_?

Jungkook was a kind soul. People had told him that his whole life, even before he started to believe it himself.

So how was his _soulmate_ going to be … so cruel?

“Kookie,” Hoseok started, his voice hoarse. He and Jin and Namjoon all knew what Jungkook’s early school days had been like, and the heaviness of that word on Jungkook’s heart. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

Jungkook said nothing, only continued to cry silently as his friend wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

It just didn’t make any sense. Jungkook hadn’t even met his soulmate yet and their cruelty was already striking the chord of pain in him that he thought he’d left behind.

***

You were suspended for the first time in second grade.

You didn’t even know second graders _could_ get suspended. Years later you found out that you were actually your school’s first ever case of a second grade suspension and quite frankly, you wore the badge with _pride_.

“Y/N, this behavior is simply unacceptable,” your principal said to you as you held an ice pack to your swollen cheek. “Your teacher tells me you’re the class leader and yet _this_ is the example you’re setting.”

You rolled your eyes, which led to a wince when the tender, quickly bruising flesh pulled at the motion.

“I’ve called your father, he should be here momentarily,” your principal continued. The look on his face was pissing you off. You didn’t even know what ‘pissed off’ meant, but you had heard the phrase on a TV show your older brother watched and it resonated with you for some reason. “I am _very_ disappointed in you, Y/N. This school does not tolerate fighting.”

You huffed in indignation, wanting to stomp your foot but it didn’t reach the floor from the chair you sat in across from the principal’s desk.

“But he—”

“Hi, sorry I’m late.”

At the sound of your father’s voice, you turned around in your seat so fast that one of your pigtails hit you in the face.

“Oh, baby,” your father murmured. His gaze went straight to your bruised face, running around your chair to crouch in front of you and inspect the damage. “How did this happen?” he snapped at your principal. 

The principal scoffed at your father’s tone, clearly taking offense.

“This happened because _your_ _daughter_ initiated a fight on the playground today, sir.”

You father looked back at you and blinked in confusion. “Sweetheart, is this true?”

You could feel tears prickling your eyes. The worst thing in the world was when your father was disappointed in you.

You nodded, keeping your eyes downcast at your lap and swinging your feet.

“Yeah, I hit him,” you mumbled. “But it was only because—”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” the principal cut you off. “This school has a _strict_ no-violence policy, any excuses are—”

“ _Let her finish._ ”

Your father practically growled at the principal. The beady eyed administrator gulped, looking away from your father’s intense glare.

You finally felt comfortable enough to meet your father’s eyes as he turned back to you. In the matter of a mere second, his gaze went from livid to kind as he looked down at you.

Your father and brother were your whole world. Your mother had passed away giving birth to you and even though you tended to feel particularly empty whenever you saw the other girls being dropped off at school by their moms in the morning, your father and brother were _everything_ to you. 

“Why did you hit another student, sweetheart?” your father asked softly. 

“Because he called Lana a slut!” you shouted instantly, your tiny voice not so tiny anymore. “And I don’t even know what slut means but he said it like a real big jerk and then he pulled on her shirt so hard she fell down on the ground! And instead of helping her up he just kicked sand on her! And I warned him Daddy, I swear I did! I told him, ‘if you say one more word then I’ll sock you right in the mouth.’ I heard Jackson say that one time but don’t tell him I told you that. But then that mean boy looked at me and said ‘one more word,’ and then he kicked sand on Lana and me both while I was helping her up. And I knew if I didn’t hit him then I would be a liar _and_ I would be telling him it was okay to push girls down and call them mean names and it’s just _not_ , Daddy, it’s not okay! And the teachers weren’t doing _anything_ , they never do, so _I_ did it. I socked him right in the mouth and then he hit me back and so I hit him again and then Teacher separated us and then I came here and that’s what happened.”

The office went deadly silent when you finished, save for your cries. You wiped at your face with the back of your hand quickly, unable to look at your father yet again.

Then you heard a small chuckle and felt your chin being lifted up.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “You can look at me. I’m not mad.”

“You’re … you’re not?”

“Not at all,” he assured you. “In fact I’m _proud_ of you.”

The principal guffawed, but was instantly silenced by another glare from your father.

“Do I think you should have hit the boy?” your father asked. “No. And we can work on learning some better options for when you see something. But Y/N, I will always — _always_ be proud of you for standing up for what is right. Do you hear me?”

You sniffled, throwing yourself into your father’s arms.

“I hear you, Daddy.”

***

Your father’s funeral was the same day as your twentieth birthday.

For twenty years, you had known exactly where you stood in the world because you knew who you could always fall back on.

And now he was gone and for the first time ever … you felt lost.

Your brother Jackson gripped your hand tightly as the casket was lowered. He’d delivered a beautiful eulogy, and you knew that later you would feel terrible for putting all that responsibility on him, but in that moment … you were just numb.

The snow falling around you wasn’t exactly helping.

Jackson had tried to convince you to let him move the funeral date so that it wouldn’t coincide with the day you received your soulmark, but you had refused.

Anytime you had dreamed about when your mark would appear, the dream had always included your father being there with you. Now that he wouldn’t … what was the point in making it a big thing?

“Just a few more minutes,” Jackson said suddenly, startling you from where you were staring at the coffin slowly disappearing into the ground.

“Huh?”

Your brother nodded down at your wrist. “Your mark. Just a few more minutes and it’ll show up.”

“Oh. Right.” 

“Y/N … I know this is hard, but—”

“Just don’t, Jackson,” you sighed. “I’m just … I’m _tired_. I’m so damn tired, I can’t make myself get happy about my mark. I feel like with Dad gone, I don’t even know who _I_ am anymore, how the hell am I supposed to care who my soulmate is?”

“You know who you are.” When you snorted, Jackson grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you to face him. “Hey, listen to me. I know we’re both grieving and I know this sucks alright, I’m in pain, too.” His voice cracking on those words was enough to make you actually focus on him. “But you know who you are. So do I. And so did …" He swallowed thickly. "So did Dad.”

You winced, looking away to where dirt was being pushed into the grave. Jackson grabbed you gently by the chin to make you look back at him. 

“You are strong, resilient, and you don't take crap from _anybody_. I’ve never met anyone who stands up for what’s right the way you do, and sometimes that means you need to stand up to yourself when you get like this. You are who Dad raised you to be.”

“And who is that?”

“The same punk who socked a kid in the mouth on the playground for bullying your friend.”

Your laugh was a sad one, but it was there. Jackson smiled.

“You’re the same person who organized a protest to get the cafeteria to include gluten free pizza because one kid in your grade had celiac disease. You’re the person who organized a neighborhood wide clean up for the old lady down the street when her house got out of control because she couldn’t take care of it herself anymore. _That’s who you are_ , Y/N. Kind and compassionate and yet _mean as hell_ when you know someone is being a bully.”

You laughed out loud at that one, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. 

“There it is,” Jackson murmured. “I knew that smile was still in there somewhere.”

“How am I supposed to smile right now, Jax? I mean we’re at our father’s funeral. He’s gone, how do I … how do _we_ keep going?”

“By being who he raised us to be. You — a freedom fighter with a heart of gold. Me — incredibly handsome and charming and talented and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” you chuckled. “I just … I’m afraid I don’t know how to be that person without him.”

Jackson smiled softly, shaking his head as he pulled you in for a hug.

“Yes you do, Y/N. Yes you do.”

You hugged him back tightly as you could, letting your brother push the broken pieces of your heart back into place.

“Oh!” you exclaimed suddenly, pulling away. “My mark!”

“Oh what’s it say, what’s it say?”

“It says …” you pulled back the black sleeve of your dress and turned your hand over to look at the inside of your left wrist. “‘ _This is not what I expected_.’”

“Huh,” Jackson remarked as you furrowed your brow. “That’s a pretty good one.”

And even though your heart was heavy, there was still a flutter in the back of your heart.

You had a soulmate out there somewhere. Your other half was _out there_.

Whoever he ends up being … you find yourself hoping he’s the kind of guy your father would love.

***

**ONE YEAR LATER**

It was a well known fact that Jungkook _hated_ bars. They were impersonal, usually dirty, not exactly primed for dancing the way that clubs were, and he usually got hit on _a lot_ which is flattering, sure, but also super uncomfortable for him.

But of course Jin wanted to celebrate his birthday at the bar where he met his soulmate — who was now his fiancee. Not that anyone could miss the fact that Jin’s soulmate was now his fiancee considering he announced it to the world every five minutes. 

Not that Jungkook was jealous or anything.

No … not at all.

“Jungkook!”

The younger boy jumped as Namjoon slapped his hand on his shoulder, spilling a few drops of his drink on the bar in the process. He looked up at his friend and smirked. Like always, Namjoon’s hair was immaculately coifed. 

“Looking good, hyung,” he remarked with a smirk. “Any nice girls comment on your hair tonight?”

“Not yet, but it’s still early.”

“You know, I think I can see your roots starting to come in, you should probably go see Jimin soon. And — oh my gosh, is that … it looks like your part is uneven! Call the hair police stat!”

“Alright you little brat, keep making fun,” Namjoon said cooly. “I’m not the one with a mop on his head.”

“The ladies _love_ this mop of hair, hyung.”

“And yet you always turn them down. Ack, get those doe eyes out of my face. Hoseok!”

“Joonie-ah!”

Even across the entire room, Hoseok’s voice made it sound like he was right beside them. Seconds later the slender, red-faced and slightly tipsy boy was bounding up to the bar.

“Hello, boys,” he sing-songed, waving down the bartender and asking for another beer. “Where the hell did Jin even go? This is _his_ birthday party and he’s missing all the fun.”

“Ah,” Namjoon remarked, throwing back a shot. “I do believe I saw he and his lovely fiancee sneaking away a few minutes ago.”

“Soulmates,” Hoseok muttered. “Can’t live with them, desperately want to be them.” He thanked the bartender smoothly and grabbed his new drink. “Come on boys, let’s go meet some ladies and hope they say those special words! And if not, well … we can try to get them to say something else equally enticing!”

“Ah, you guys go ahead,” Jungkook said as Hoseok tried to drag him away. “I’m going to finish my drink and then head home.”

“What?” Hoseok shouted (honestly, it was like his default volume when he was tipsy).

“Jungkookie, it’s not even ten,” Namjoon said.

“I know, but I have a paper to work on and if Jin-hyung isn’t even here then I really should get back and work on it.”

“Aw, Namjoon, look at our little boy all grown up and being a responsible student.”

“Stop that,” Jungkook snapped, but not without a fond smile as he shoved away Hoseok’s hands from gripping his cheeks and shaking them. “You guys go. Find a soulmate or … a ... person for the evening.”

“Eloquent, Kookie, truly. We’ll catch you later, alright?” Namjoon asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you on Saturday. Go ahead. And Hobi, don’t slam the door when you come in the apartment tonight, yeah?”

When Hoseok bounded away without an answer, Jungkook just rolled his eyes. Typical. It was a good thing he loved that guy already.

Left to his own devices at the bar, Jungkook went back to his drink. He meant it when he said he had a paper to work on, but he paid good money from his very meager bank account for his drink, so he was damn well going to finish it.

It was kind of peaceful, sitting on his own at the bar and just having a drink. Getting lost in his thoughts, _good_ thoughts of his friends and new dance choreo and a stupid pun Jin had told him last week.

He only tensed up once when a woman in a green dress sat down a couple seats from him, fully expecting her to make a move on him, but then relaxing when she just ordered a drink for herself and didn’t pay him any attention at all.

It was oddly serene. Until it wasn’t.

Jungkook was just one sip away from being finished with his drink when someone clasped his shoulder with an painfully iron tight grip.

“ _Ouch,_ Namjoon, what the—”

Jungkook froze as he looked up to see someone he thought he’d left in another town, in a life long left behind.

“Holy shit!” his childhood bully shouted, still as greasy faced and obnoxious as he’d been all through their school days, grinning with cruel delight. “I _thought_ that was you! Damn loser, who would have thought I’d be seeing you here? I bet you thought you’d seen the last of _me_ , huh?”

It was an odd feeling, to be thrown back into a past version of himself as Jungkook looked up at the person that had initiated a cycle of cruelty and misery for eleven years of his life.

“I … I—”

“Still stuttering, huh, loser?” The bully punched him in the shoulder and even though Jungkook had developed a fair amount of muscle mass since high school, it still hurt to be punched. “Damn loser, you been working out? Shit, you really bulked up! I wouldn’t have shit on you so much in high school if you looked like this! I mean, you really went from a dweeb to a good-looking dude! Good for you, loser!” 

“Uh, yeah,” Jungkook muttered, moving to stand from the stool. “Hey it’s uh, good to see you too man, but I gotta go.”

The bully just laughed and the familiar noise stirred a very real pain in Jungkook’s gut.

“Still a loser, huh? You know I knew right away that it was you when I saw you sitting over here drinking by yourself! I guess you can bulk up and move away, but once a loser always a—”

“ _Hey tough guy_.”

The bully looked up at the sound of your voice. Jungkook turned as well, hoping and praying that his eyes weren’t glassy as he realized it was the woman who had sat next to him just a few minutes ago.

You stood up from your stool with a margarita in hand and daggers in your gaze as you stared at the colossal asshole trying to act macho.

“Hey sweets, I’m more than willing to chat with you once I finish catching up with my high school buddy here.” The bully clapped Jungkook on the shoulder once again, squeezing his meaty fingers into the fabric of his black shirt.

“Yeah, see I don’t know you,” you said, stepping up and smacking the inside of the bully’s elbow to make him let go of the unreasonably handsome, but quiet man that had been sitting beside you at the bar. “But I _do_ know that ‘high school buddies’ typically don’t degrade one another and call each other names. So why don’t you buzz off and get your dick hard some other way instead of reliving your glory days of being the world’s biggest teenage douchebag.”

Jungkook’s mouth dropped, staring at you in shock.

Not once, _not once_ had anyone defended him in front of this guy. Until you. He didn’t even _know_ you and yet you were standing up for him.

The bully blinked in surprise, but then it only took a few seconds for his face to turn red with anger.

“Listen here you bitch—”

“ _Watch it._ ”

No one was more surprised at Jungkook’s growled warning than Jungkook himself. You looked over your shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow and the slightest smirk before turning back to the asshole in question.

“Call me or any other woman bitch ever again, and I’ll throw this drink all over your head, sock you in the mouth, and then get you permanently banned from the bar. Do you understand me or should I repeat myself slower?”

“Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?” the bully snapped, puffing out his chest with held breath.

“I think I’m someone that can spot a whiny ass bully from a mile away,” you remarked casually, not perturbed in the slightest. “So why don’t you just save all of us some trouble, and fuck off somewhere else.”

The bully looked past you at Jungkook, who was still staring at you shell-shocked. You continued to smile cooly at the bully as if you were discussing the weather.

“Kookie!”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on here?”

Hoseok and Namjoon appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the latter coming up to stand on the other side of Jungkook opposite of you. It was only then that you and Jungkook realized that most of the bar had gone silent and was watching the situation unfold.

“Hey man,” Namjoon addressed the bully, lifting his chin. “Is there a problem here?”

The bully looked at the four of you standing side by side and straightened his shoulders, inhaling a shaky breath. “Oh I see, loser,” he addressed Jungkook. “You make it out of our little town, think you make it big, but you need a little posse to protect you now. Still a loser through and through.”

“What the _fuck_ did you just—”

“Hobi don’t,” Jungkook snapped, reaching behind Namjoon to grab Hoseok’s arm and pull him back.

The bully laughed, raising his arms out to the side. “Like I said. You can’t even stand up for yourself, loser. You need these two pussies and your little bitch to—”

You threw your drink in the bully’s face, letting him splutter as you turned and placed the empty glass on the bar counter before rearing your arm back and punching him in the nose.

The entire bar ‘ooo’ed as the bully hit the floor.

You hissed, shaking out your hand as you looked over your shoulder to the bartender.

“Jackson,” you said casually to your brother, flexing your fingers. “I’m calling in my monthly sister favor. This guy is permanently banned from the bar.”

“First of all,” Jackson replied, eyeing his groaning customer on the floor with disgust. “You already used your monthly sister favor when you needed gas last week. But because I’m a nice brother, consider this one an advance on next month’s favor.”

You grinned, turning back to where the bully was still rolling on the ground like an imbecile. 

“Alright, asshole, up and out. You’re banned, now fuck off before I call the cops for trespassing since you’re officially banned. That’s right, out, _out_. Thank you, _goodbye_.”

The bully didn’t even spare Jungkook one last glance as he staggered to his feet and stumbled out the door clutching his nose.

“Show’s over, people,” Jackson called out. “But tune in next week, we’ll probably have a rerun of some sort. Carry on!”

You stuck your tongue out at your brother, who just laughed and went back to serving drinks as the bar slowly moved back to normalcy after the scene you caused. Well … the scene you ended. 

You finally looked back to the three boys.

Who were all staring at you … slack-jawed.

They were all really damn cute, one with sick looking hair, the other tan and glowing and red-faced (tipsy, clearly), and the one who had been bullied was just … _damn, he is fine_ , you thought to yourself.

“I like your hair,” you remarked to the one with the platinum coif.

His eyes went wide for a brief before he sighed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. The sunshine-y guy on his other side promptly burst out laughing.

“ _Dammit_ ,” nice-haired boy muttered under his breath before stalking off to get another drink.

You looked to the one who was still laughing. “What did I say?”

“The wrong thing,” the sunshine one said, still laughing. You guessed it was a soulmark thing, but didn’t push it. “That was _awesome_ by the way. Nice punch!”

You smirked, shrugging with no small amount of pride. “Thanks. I do kickboxing.”

“Hey, Jungkook likes boxing!” he shouted, grabbing his other friend and shoving him closer to you. You laughed at the other boy’s scared expression. He had yet to say a word to you. “I don’t know if kickboxing and boxing is the same or not, but … you should talk! I need another drink.”

“Tell the bartender it’s on me,” you said, earning yourself a double thumbs up and a high-five from the sunshine boy. That made you laugh, turning to the other boy to tell him you liked his friends, only to freeze when you saw the look on his face.

He was staring at you like you were an ethereal being or something. Pure admiration. You weren’t ashamed to admit that if he hadn’t been so cute, it definitely would’ve been creepy.

You swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. He was just about to open his mouth to speak first when you blurted out —

“Loser.”

The boy froze, his big (and wildly beautiful) brown eyes widening like saucers.

“Like … really?” you continued. “That dude is practically a professional bully and the only name he called you was _loser_? Pfft, what a moron. Seriously, don’t dwell on him for a single second, okay? _Not_ worth your time.”

The boy was still silent, and his stare was really getting to you.

“Would you just … say something, please?” you asked, swallowing and running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, it’s just that I … I can’t just stand by when I see stuff like that. And you looked really uncomfortable and kind of scared and I had to step in. I can’t—”

“This,” he finally spoke, his voice soft and smooth in all the right ways, “is not what I expected.”

Now it was your turn to stare.

“W-What did you just say?” 

Your right hand subconsciously moved to grab your left wrist, and Jungkook tracked the movement with his eyes. A smile started to play on his lips, growing wider with each second as he lifted his own left hand.

On the inside of his wrist, right there in black ink, was a single word.

‘ _Loser_.’

“I … I …”

You knew you were gaping like a fish, but you genuinely had no idea what to say.

“I … I am _such_ an asshole!”

Jungkook blinked at you in surprise. 

"What?"

“Oh my gosh you’ve spent this whole time thinking your soulmate was just going to insult you when you met!” you exclaimed, hands on your head and eyes wild. “Why the hell did I even _say_ that? I’m so insensitive, holy crap!”

Jungkook stared at you, his smile only widening. And then he _burst_ into laughter.

Not just any laughter either. Oh no, Jungkook’s laughter was open and honest and completely _real_. He was the epitome of ‘ _ahahaha!_ ’ and it was the _best damn sound you had ever heard_.

And it was contagious. Soon enough you were giggling too, hands on your cheeks as your face reddened in both embarrassment and delight.

“Kookie!” Hoseok shouted from the bar suddenly, causing the two of you to look over at where he, Namjoon, and Jackson were clearly chatting. “What the hell is so funny?”

You looked back to Jungkook, grinning. His heart skipped a beat, and so did yours.

The pair of you looked back to the trio and held up your left wrists like badges of honor.

“She called me a loser!”

“He said I wasn’t what he expected!”

The three boys were silent for just a split second.

Jackson promptly screamed and announced free drinks for everyone, Hoseok started laughing so hard he literally fell off his chair and spilled his drink everywhere, and Namjoon dropped his head to the bar surface after dramatically shouting, “ _Another one?!_ ”

You and Jungkook looked back to one another, both of you positively beaming. In a rare display of boldness, Jungkook reached out with his left hand and gently grasped yours, running his thumb over your mark. He giggled when you shivered and you could have melted on the spot.

“Sorry you have to wear the word ‘loser’ on your wrist for the rest of your life,” you said softly, feeling parts of you turn to mush as he looked down at you with utter fondness.

“It’s okay,” he said instantly, smile brighter than any sunrise. “That word doesn’t bother me anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment and kudos equals love and kisses to the sweetest boy in all the land, Jeon Jungkook.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~kookitykook


	3. Yoongi; "I've Actually Never Listened to Kanye West."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You considered yourself a simple kind of girl. You loved your family and friends, you easily found joy in the small moments of life, and you loved the piano with all your heart. 
> 
> So why wasn't it simple to just speak to your soulmate when you knew exactly who he was?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is v soft. I hope you enjoy <3  
> ~kookitykook

**YOONGI  **

Min Yoongi considered himself a simple kind of man.

He was fortunate and grew up in a loving family, he had a few close friends that he could always depend on, and he loved music.

Yoongi _enjoyed_ simplicity. He didn’t mind spontaneity or partying in other people, but that lifestyle just didn’t interest him.

For his entire life all Yoongi had dreamed about was opening up his own music shop. A place where people could come and find community and any sort of music that touched their soul.

That was his dream. Simple, to the point, and attainable.

So by the time his twentieth birthday had rolled around, Yoongi had worked tons of part time and random side jobs for almost five years and saved every single penny, and was able to buy the space he needed to open his shop. He was still in university, still a teenager (only for a few more minutes, but still), and he’d been smart enough and worked hard enough to make wise choices to realize his dream.

And all that hard work was _finally_ paying off.

“Alright Mr. Min, here are the keys,” said the realtor of the empty space that would soon be Yoongi’s store. “Congratulations on your new property!”

Yoongi thanked the realtor, walking her to the door and seeing her out. Once she was gone he turned back to look at his family and friends who had joined him for the occasion.

He held up the keys to _his store_ and grinned. “I did it.”

His mother squealed, rushing forward and hugging him tightly around the neck. The others that had amassed followed suit, his father and brother embracing him tightly, some of his buddies from high school, and his new friend from university that was just a year younger than him that he had met at the tiny on-campus record store (she’d been buying a Jonas Brothers album and he’d only slightly been judging her).

“I’m proud of you, son,” his father said sincerely.

“Oh my boy is so grown up,” his mother added, hugging him for what felt like the millionth time.

Yoongi just chuckled, returning the embrace tightly. “I wouldn’t be here without you all. Thank you.” He bowed deeply.

“It’s a big day for you Yoongs,” his university friend said as she jumped up on the counter behind her. “It’s your birthday, the day you buy your own shop, _and_ your soulmark should be appearing any second!”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, making his friend laugh. He had been hoping to avoid the topic of his soulmark in front of his parents, something she knew quite well. He needed to keep this in mind for whenever she got _her_ soulmark.

“Oh, yes!” his mother squealed, checking the time. “You were born around 12:14. Oh, I can’t wait to meet my boy’s soulmate.”

Yoongi scrunched his nose as his mother pinched his cheeks. “The mark doesn’t tell me when I’m going to meet her, Eomma.”

“Yes but still!”

“It should be showing up now,” his brother remarked casually.

“Oh, let me look!”

Yoongi just sighed as his mother took his left hand and held the inside of his wrist up to her face. She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“Who’s Kanye West?” she asked innocently, mispronouncing the rapper’s first name.

Yoongi’s friends and brother burst out laughing.

“Aw Yoongs, don’t tell me you’re stealing Kim’s man!” his friend shouted, leaning against his brother as she cackled.

“Shut up,” he muttered, pulling his hand away and looking at the mark himself.

There in black ink was his mark, the first words his soulmate would ever say to him.

_‘I’ve actually never listened to Kanye West.’_

Well. That was … surprising.

At his friends urging, Yoongi repeated the words. 

“Who hasn’t listened to Kanye West?” his brother mused. “Seriously, does your soulmate live under a rock or something?”

“Well at least we know you two will have to work on finding common ground,” his friend cut in.

It was well known that Yoongi’s favorite artist was Kanye. Strange that his soulmate would have never listened to him.

Yoongi just shrugged. “That’s fine. I can introduce her to him. She can introduce me to her interests, too.”

His friends and brother ‘awwww’ed.

“Ack, shut up. And get off the counter!”

***

You considered yourself a simple kind of girl.

You were raised by a single mother, but your childhood had been filled with joy. You enjoyed fashion, had a soft heart for all animals, and you _loved_ music with your whole heart. 

You were only been six years old when your mother had enrolled you in a piano class, and even though you cried terribly when she left you at the strange new place for an hour, by the time the first class was over you were asking if you could come back the next day. 

That was the first time you discovered that music ran through your veins. Emotions that your six-year old brain didn’t know how to process yet suddenly made more sense when you heard that emotion being played on the piano or sang in the most beautiful way.

Music became your life, and your mother did everything in her power to give you opportunities to pursue your dream. When you entered high school you were gifted a scholarship to attend an arts conservatory, which is where your talent really started to reach new heights.

Soon you were being scouted for various university music programs and you even received a few invitations to join symphonies all around the country.

The world was your oyster, anywhere you wanted to go with the piano, you could have gone.

But … you were a simple kind of girl.

Sure, traveling the world and playing alongside some of the biggest names in the music industry would be great, but it just wasn’t for you.

You didn’t want to move away from your mother. You didn’t need fame or recognition.

All you wanted was to be with those you loved, play the piano, and share your love of music with others.

So that’s what you did. You respectfully turned down all the wonderful offers that had been sent your way, hoping and praying that the opportunities would go to people who craved and deserved them more than you.

After graduation you enrolled in a small online university where you earned your Associate’s Degree in business relatively quickly. You moved out of your mother’s house to an apartment complex near to her, but not so near that you didn’t have that sense of independence you wanted. And you started to teach.

You never would have guessed that teaching piano would have brought you such fulfillment, but it turned out to be one of the greatest sources of joy in your life.

Sure, there were kids who hated the instrument and were just there because their parents made them, but there were also the children who you saw so much of yourself in. You saw the joy and the emotional realizations on their faces as they played, the excitement when the notes started to click in their minds.

It was one of the most fulfilling aspects of your life.

And this is what you were talking about with your closest friend/roommate on your twentieth birthday as you waited for your soulmark to appear. 

“She’s an absolute genius, I swear,” you said to your friend, who was listening with a grin. “She’s only eight years old and she’ll be able to outplay me soon.”

“Oh I doubt that.”

“No, seriously!” You took a sip of your wine, throwing a blanket over your cold feet. “She’s phenomenal. I’m helping her parents look into some scholarships for arts schools. Gah, she’s so good. But anyways, I’m sorry, I keep talking about me.”

“It’s your birthday!” your roommate argued, pouring herself another drink. “And your soulmark day for crying out loud, you’re allowed to talk about yourself.”

“Yeah but what about you?” you pushed. “How are things going at the shelter?”

Your roommate was a few years older than you and waited tables, but spent her free time volunteering at an animal shelter just down the road — that was actually where the two of you had met.

“Really good, actually!” she said, sitting up straighter and proceeding to tell you about the shelter’s new initiative to get all of the stray cats adopted by Christmastime.

Before you knew it, a half hour and another bottle of wine had passed between the two of you and it was almost time for your soulmark to appear.

“What do you think it will say?” your roommate asked, waggling her eyebrows at you.

You laughed, stroking the still blank skin on the inside of your left wrist. “I don’t know. As long as it’s nice, I don’t care.”

Your roommate stiffened and you immediately realized your mistake.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t even thinking.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she assured you, biting her lip as she looked down at her own wrist.

(You hadn’t met your roommate yet when her soulmark had appeared, but the ink on her wrist read. ‘ _Do you have any idea who I am, you psycho?_ ’ You had assured her that whenever she met her soulmate, the context of the situation would make the comment much less cruel, but she rarely believed you.)

“Tonight’s not about my mark,” your roommate said with a forced smile. “It’s about yours! How much time left?”

You checked your watch. “Uh, any second now actually.”

Your roommate squealed and scooted closer to you, both of you staring at your wrist as light music played in the background.

You let out a heavy breath as black ink slowly started to appear.

“There it is, there it is!” your roommate chanted excitedly

And sure enough, there it was.

‘ _Hi, welcome to Agust D’s Records, I’m Yoongi._ ’

“Well then,” your roommate deadpanned. “That makes it … pretty clear.”

You stared at your wrist silently, mouth open like a fish. A dumbfounded, overwhelmed fish.

“Yoongi,” you whispered after a few uncomfortably long, silent seconds. “His name is Yoongi.”

“Well where the hell is this Agust D’s Records place?” your roommate mused, whipping out her phone to search for the store. “We’ve got to go there ASAP.”

“This is so weird,” you murmured to yourself. “I … I don’t really know how to feel. I mean, I can find him like … anytime at all.”

“Yeah you really lucked out,” your roommate responded. “No mystery for you. And look here.” You leaned over to look at her phone. “The store is only a few miles from us. We can go see him tomorrow!”

Your heart seemed to seize in your chest.

“Or not!” your roommate said quickly upon seeing your panicked expression. “You can go see him whenever you want, it is _completely_ up to you. If you want me to go with, I will, but I also understand if you want to go by yourself. The ball is in your court, Y/N.”

You gulped, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Yoongi,” you repeated dumbly as your roommate stroked your hair. “His name is Yoongi.”

***

**2 YEARS LATER**

“Okay I’m just saying to consider it, Yoongs.”

“Don’t call me that,” Yoongi muttered, glaring over at his best friend as he reorganized the Beatles section that a bunch of high school punks had put out of place. “Tell me again why you’re bothering me instead of doing your job that I so graciously pay you to do?”

His friend scoffed, sitting down on the ground and leaning back on her palms. “It’s a genius idea and you know it. The store is doing great, and your brother is more than ready to take over as manager here. This is the perfect time to look into opening a new branch!”

“I’m perfectly content with just one store for now. Why are you so hung up on this?”

“I just have this _feeling_ , Yoongs,” she continued. Yoongi watched as she leaned forward, subconsciously rubbing her soulmark that she’d received only half a year ago. It wasn’t much to see, just a simple ‘ _No_.’ “I feel like we’re meant to move into the city proper and open a new branch. I just _know_ it.”

“Oh you do?”

“Yeah,” she retorted, passion lighting up in her eyes. “Don’t you feel like the universe is all connected sometime? Like … like we’re all causing ripples in a pond that overlap with each other exactly like we’re meant to? And I just feel it in my bones that we’re meant to expand the store! We’re not supposed to keep making our ripples here forever!”

Yoongi sighed, looking down at her with sympathy. “Look. I’ll be honest with you, your idea is a good one. _But_ ,” he said quickly when she started to beam, “I don’t think it’s the right time just yet. Let me think about it some more and look over our finances. Let’s not rush into our ripples before we’re supposed to, okay?”

His friend grinned, nodding and jumping up to hug him tightly. “That was a pretty good metaphor, don’t you think?”

“No, it was stupid. Now go man the register and leave me alone.”

“Love you too, Yoongs!”

“And stop calling me that!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared around the corner of the aisle he was on. He loved that girl, but she drove him insane. He hoped his soulmate wasn’t so extra, he was pretty sure he could only handle one overly dramatic person in his life.

It’d been just over two years since his soulmark had shown up, and he had yet to hear the words on his wrist. At first he used to try and find ways to bring up Kanye West to every customer that caught his eye, but that got exhausting and disappointing really quick.

So he decided to just let it be. His soulmate would show up when they were supposed to.

“Yoongs. Psst, _Yoongs_.”

“Did I not _just_ tell you to go man the register?” Yoongi asked in exasperation as his friend popped her head around the corner yet again. “What is it?”

“She’s back,” she said with wide eyes. “That girl.”

“What girl?”

His friend rolled her eyes and huffed. “Don’t play dumb, you know which girl.”

Yoongi swallowed. He did know which girl she was referring to, he had known right away.

You started coming into the shop about a year ago, and he had been struck right away. It had been a particularly rainy day, and your hair had been dripping onto your shoulders, making the green of your sweater look particularly dark. He had introduced himself to you like every other customer (albeit his voice had cracked because you were staring at him with the prettiest, widest eyes he had ever seen), but you had only nodded at him politely and skittered away to look at some of the ukuleles he had just put on display.

He didn’t think much of it. Maybe you were shy, or maybe you _couldn’t_ speak. He didn’t want to make any assumptions, so he just carried on with his business and rang you up for the Demi Lovato CD you bought, giving you the usual speech on the music classes and membership opportunities the store offered. You had smiled, nodded yet again, and then went on your way silently.

That had been a year ago, and since then you had been coming into the shop at least once a week, but nary a word had been said to him.

It only somewhat drove him crazy. For a while he believed that perhaps you couldn’t speak, but then he heard you ask his brother a question about the piano classes that the shop offered.

So you _could_ speak, you just didn’t want to speak to _him_. Great.

His best friend had a theory that it was because you were his soulmate, but Yoongi didn’t think that could be true even though he had never seen your mark. You had bought two Kanye West records in the last year, and when he’d asked if you enjoyed Kanye’s music you had looked up at him a little scared and nodded hurriedly before darting out of the shop.

Still not a word though.

It was strange, but Yoongi had decided not to dwell on it any longer. You clearly didn’t want to speak to him for some reason, but you were polite enough and always bought something from the store — whether it was a record, sheet music, a CD, or some of the local band merch that filtered through every now and then.

You were a loyal customer, just … a quiet one. Fine by him.

“Dude, let it go,” Yoongi muttered to his friend as she continued to stare at him like he ought to do something drastic with this information that you were once again at the store. “And leave her alone, too. She doesn’t need the likes of you bothering her to talk to me.”

“The likes of _me_?” his friend shouted incredulously. “Brat. Anyways, I still think _you_ should go say hello to her. She’s always watching you when you’re not looking. And not in a stalker way, but a cute, infatuated way. Go say hi.”

“Go man the register.”

“Ugh, _fine_!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as his friend left with a dramatic huff. A minute or two passed and he finally finished reorganizing the section, heading around the corner to grab a box of some new records to stock.

That's when he saw you.

He couldn’t help but stop dead in his tracks. You hadn’t seem him yet, instead looking down at the new piano that had just come into the store yesterday. Your mouth was slightly open as you ran your fingertips over the keys almost … reverently. Your eyes were bright with wonder and Yoongi felt like the breath had been knocked out of him at the sight.

It was a damn shame that he didn’t think you were his soulmate.

He swallowed, licking his suddenly dry lips as he readied himself to speak to you.

***

“That just came in yesterday.”

You jumped at Yoongi’s familiar voice, yanking your hand back from the keys of the absolutely _stunning_ piano. You looked over, swallowing thickly as you took in his appearance.

He always looked good and today was of course no different. He had dyed his hair blonde a few months ago, and his roots had started to come in, but that only added to his semi-grunge look. Ripped jeans and a cuddle-worthy brown sweater donned his slim frame, and you somehow managed not to ogle him like a total creeper.

You then remembered that he had just spoken to you in that low, smooth voice of his and was probably expecting you to respond _somehow_.

You smiled at him briefly before turning back to the piano to admire it. It really was beautiful.

“It’s a Bechstein,” he continued, sounding almost … nervous? “Twelve years used, but it’s in great condition. One of our regulars had it passed down in his family and decided to let us have it for half the selling price. It’s no Steinway, but … it’s damn nice. I almost hope nobody buys it anytime soon.”

You couldn’t help but hum in agreement, wanting to reach back out to the beautiful black and white keys but knowing that you weren’t supposed to play the instruments without express permission from the store staff.

You’d been coming to the store for a year now to shamelessly creep on your soulmate, you definitely knew the ins and outs of the place by now.

It was getting downright ridiculous the way that you were refusing to speak to your soulmate. Your roommate was going insane about it, even more so since she had met _her_ soulmate, Taehyung. She and the famous singer had almost killed each other upon first meeting, but they were head over heels for each other soon thereafter, which meant she was even more insistent on you speaking to yours so you could have the same kind of relationship.

But you were painfully afraid. Yoongi had said the words on your mark to you a year ago and you still had not said whatever words were on _his_ wrist — words that you refused to try and get a peek of.

“Do you play?”

It took you a minute to register that Yoongi had just asked you a question. You met his piercing eyes, almost melting at his soft smile. You swallowed and nodded.

“I figured,” he said softly, moving slightly closer to you. You raised an eyebrow at him as if to ask ‘how?’ “The way you looked at it. Like you could already hear the notes you wanted to play.”

Your heart stuttered.

 _Say something you idiot,_ you thought to yourself _. He’s your_ soulmate _and you’re pussyfooting around as if he isn’t_.

You opened your mouth to say something — what, you didn’t know — and Yoongi’s eyes widened.

But then nothing came out. Fear gripped your vocal cords and you huffed, turning back to the piano in frustration. What was _wrong_ with you?

You heard Yoongi sigh in disappointment and all you wanted to do was run out of the store. You were just about to to do that when he spoke up again.

“Do you … want to play something?”

You looked up at him in shock. He was offering to let you play the Bechstein? There had been both a Bechstein and a Steinway for you to play on at the arts conservatory you attended as a teenager, but ever since then you hadn’t had a chance to play on anything other than your Yamaha. And your Yamaha was nice, but … it was no Bechstein.

Yoongi laughed as you nodded frantically. He gestured for you to sit on the piano bench and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself to focus on the piano and not your soulmate watching you.

The first touch of the keys had the rest of the world disappearing — Yoongi, the shop, your worries, everything.

Your fingers drifted over the keys with a honed elegance that only a lifetime of practice and love for the piano could create.

It was a piece you knew like the back of your hand — a piece you had written, actually. The notes ebbed and flowed, painting a melodious picture of your life. You played the sounds of your mother’s love and dedication to you. You played the anxieties of high school and the competitiveness of your music program. You played the joy of teaching your students. You played late nights with your roommate laughing about the most random things together. You played the feeling of Yoongi saying the words on your wrist to you. You played your fear of revealing yourself as his soulmate and facing rejection.

You played your very _soul_.

As the last note finally rang out, you opened your eyes, your eyelashes fluttering as you crashed back into reality.

You heard a few random customers and Yoongi’s chatty employee clapping and whistling and you couldn’t help but grin and turn around, bowing your head to them in thanks. You looked back to Yoongi then, only to catch sight of him staring intently at your hands that were still lingering on the piano.

Or more specifically, staring at your left wrist.

Somewhere in the middle of all of playing, your long sleeves had ridden up your forearms, revealing your soulmark. And from where he stood over you, Yoongi could see the last half of your mark.

 _‘ … Agust D’s Records, I’m Yoongi._ ’

You froze. All of the warmth that came from playing the piano vanished as you took in the expression of complete and utter shock on Yoongi’s face.

“That’s …” he mumbled, blinking rapidly. “That’s my name.”

You weren’t sure you were breathing. He finally looked up, meeting your eyes.

“Am I …” he trailed off, staring at you like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. Between your performance that had felt like it was literally tugging on his soul, to now knowing that you actually _were_ his soulmate after all … “Am I your—”

“I’veactuallyneverlistenedtoKanyeWest."

You blurted out the words so quickly that they slurred together unintelligibly. 

Yoongi's eyes practically bugged out of his head, but once those words were out, it was like a dam had broken inside of you. 

“I got my mark just over a year ago,” you continued, the word vomit spilling out. “It told me where you worked and your name a-and I was so scared at first but then I told myself it would be fine so I came to meet you, but then I saw you and I — I completely _panicked_. I froze up, I was afraid you would reject me o-or something and so I just didn’t say anything. But then I couldn’t stay away and so I just kept coming back, but then I dug myself into too deep of a hole and didn’t know how to bring up the fact that ‘hey, surprise, I’m your soulmate and I’ve been semi-stalking you for a while?’ Not that I actually have! I swear, the only time I see you is here in the store.”

You stood up then, fidgeting with your fingers as Yoongi continued to stare at you in silence.

“But I had to have some sort of reason to keep coming back, because I just felt _wrong_ when I stayed away, so I would come in and buy _something_. And I saw that on the ‘staff recommended’ shelf there was always some Kanye West album and truthfully, I’m not that into rap music but I figured I would try since you seem to like him, but I never got around to it even though I bought like three of his albums. And I know you probably think I’m completely deranged and you’re probably right, but I just — I get really nervous, you know? And you’re so nice and yet we seem really different, so I was afraid that you—”

“Stop.”

You froze, your mouth open as Yoongi cut you off quietly, holding his hand up.

 _Here it comes,_ you thought to yourself _. He’s going to tell me I’m completely insane and to get the hell out of his store. Well, it’s been a good run I guess_.

But Yoongi didn’t do that at all.

Instead he took three calculated, slow steps forward until he was right in front of you, almost chest-to-chest. You held your breath, unable to look away from his eyes.

He raised his hands, placing his palms on your cheeks.

“Your voice,” he murmured, “is _beautiful_.”

 _Oh_.

“I … I’m sorry it took me so long to say something,” you stammered out softly, feeling a whole new spectrum of emotions as he looked deep into your eyes.

Yoongi smiled then, a gummy, broad smile that knocked the breath right out of your chest.

“Don’t be. Our ripples crossed right when they needed to.”

You blinked, hands reaching out to rest on his chest. “I’ll be honest, I … I don’t really understand that metaphor.”

“I’ll explain it later. I know we just officially found each other, but ... can I kiss you? Please?”

You smiled broadly, and it didn’t bother Yoongi at all that you nodded instead of speaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment and kudos sends a burst of love out into the universe to Yoongi.  
> ~kookitykook


	4. Taehyung; "It's You."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim Taehyung hates his life. Sure, the fame and the money and the status is great and he wants for nothing material. But his recording company is stifling every inch of his creativity, and he is _sick_ of being forced to release music that isn't from his heart. And after a picture of his soulmark leaks to the public, fans are saying those words to him practically every day, hoping that they're his soulmate and not realizing the emotional toll it's taking on him.
> 
> Finally free from his recording company and severely lacking inspiration, Tae decides to stay with his friend Jimin for a while to rediscover what normal means. 
> 
> Enter you ... the least normal person he could run into at the dog park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: cute dogs, boxy smiles, overuse of italics.
> 
> This is ... the dorkiest thing I have ever written. But I hope you still enjoy it! (Also I just got 1000 hits??? That's so crazy! Thanks for reading, friends!)  
> ~kookitykook

**TAEHYUNG**

Kim Taehyung hated his life.

Rationally, he knew that this was likely the result of him probably being the most selfish, famous douchebag on the face of the planet.

Didn’t change the fact that he _hated his life_.

“This is _bullshit_!” Taehyung shouted, tearing the beanie off of his head and chucking it across the room in favor of running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I thought this was _my_ album, Sejin. Why are these prats making all of the decisions?!”

Taehyung’s manager, Sejin, took a deep breath. Taehyung was prone to outbursts as of late, but he knew that the young singer’s anger simply came from a place of frustration, not cruelty. He’d been working for Taehyung for over three years now, he knew the young man better than most.

“Taehyung, it’s just two songs. The rest of the album is all yours, but the company needs you to play nice so that—”

“I don’t _care_ what the company wants,” Taehyung snapped, hands on his hips as he turned to face Sejin. “They don’t ever seem to care what _I_ want in my music these days, so why should I listen to them?”

“Tae—”

“No, _no_! They would be a no-name recording label drowning in debt if I hadn’t signed with them and this is how they treat me! I’m done, I’m _fucking_ done.”

Taehyung slammed his hand against the wall beside him, and only felt slightly bad when he saw Sejin jump out of the corner of his eye. His broad chest heaved with breaths as he leaned his forehead against the wall and tried to calm down.

“It’s not my music anymore,” he finally murmured. “It’s not … me.” He looked up, meeting Sejin’s eye. “I’m sick of doing the same damn formula for every song. The same chord progressions, the same shitty beat drops that sound like every other song, the same stupid ass lyrics that don’t mean anything. That’s not _me_ , man. It’s not the fans either, I just feel … I feel like I’m lying to them every time I release a new shitty song that can be played in clubs, but doesn’t really _mean_ anything.”

“The songs are doing well though.”

“Of course they are, the fans will support me no matter what I release, but if it’s not really from my heart then I’m just taking advantage of them!” Taehyung retorted, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m sick of this! It’s been over a year since the company let me release anything that I wrote myself, and they won’t even give Scenery a chance!”

“You just have to be patient, Taehyung.”

“But I—”

“No, Taehyung, you have to be _patient_ ,” Sejin urged, cutting the singer off in a rare display of authority. “Your contract is up in a year. Just one year, and then you’ll have to resign for another four years, or …”

Sejin trailed off, letting Taehyung connect the dots. He would never tell his young friend what to do, but he had seen the toll that lack of creative freedom was taking on the singer.Taehyung had lost weight, his voice didn’t have that same vibrancy that it did when he was singing his own music, and he had been avoiding any sort of outings that might put him in the paths of paparazzi or his fans.

“Or I can choose not to re-sign with them,” Taehyung finished the thought in a quiet voice. He lifted his head to the ceiling, releasing a long breath. “Just one year. One more year. I can do that. I can do that, right?”

“Of course you can,” Sejin said quickly. “One year will fly by.”

Taehyung huffed, flopping down on the couch of the green room connected to the studio of the shitty, obnoxious American producer that he was being forced to work with.

“I’m not even twenty years old and I’m this tired of everything,” he said with a humorless laugh, rubbing his eyes.

“Actually, you _are_ twenty years old.”

Taehyung looked at Sejin incredulously. “No I’m not. My birthday isn't until tomorrow.”

“You were born in Korea, and your birthday started there an hour ago. Because of the time difference here in America you—”

“Well why didn’t you say something?!” Taehyung shouted, jumping up to his feet and muttering under his breath as he tried to take off the thick, clunky bracelet over his left wrist.

Because of the occasional stalker and obsessive fan, the majority of celebrities who hadn’t found their soulmate yet had taken to keeping their soulmark area constantly covered — Taehyung had wanted to get in the habit of such even before his twentieth birthday.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to bring up your soulmark in front of those assholes back there,” Sejin muttered under his breath. Taehyung smirked. It was rare that Sejin cursed, so it was clear that Taehyung wasn’t the only one who was sick of the jerks that the company had been forcing him to work with lately.

“What’s it say?” the manager asked as Taehyung finally got the bracelet off of his left wrist.

“It says … ‘ _It’s you.’_ ”

“Oh.” Sejin cleared his throat. “Well … I guess she’ll be a fan?”

Taehyung let out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate, sure, but a part of him had always romanticized the idea of someone falling for _him_ first and _then_ V, famous singer, second.

 _That was a pipe dream and you know it_ , he rationalized to himself.

The money, the fame, the countless opportunities that had been thrown Taehyung’s way since he was just barely seventeen were amazing, and he was thankful every day for them.

But the way that things were going lately, between having to make music that wasn’t from his heart at all and countless rumors and scandals that were always being blown way out of proportion, Taehyung just wanted to feel _normal_ — at least for a little while. To get his head back on straight. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Taehyung muttered, not really thinking about his soulmate much at all in that moment. Even though if she was a fan, which it seemed like she was given her first words to him, she was probably thinking about _him_ often.

Guilt struck him immediately. He loved his fans, it wasn’t their fault at all that he wasn’t content.

The inauthenticity of the situation was just getting to be too damn much. Being twenty years old was when he was supposed to really be discovering himself, and yet his company wasn’t allowing him that opportunity. No matter the privileges he had, that was enough to drive anyone crazy. 

“Just one year,” Taehyung muttered to himself, glancing up as Sejin clapped a hand on his shoulder. “One year.”

***

“Honey are you sure you don’t want to celebrate with us?”

“Mom I _am_ going to celebrate with you and Dad,” you reassured your mother with a smile as you shrugged on your coat. “We’re having a birthday party tomorrow!”

“Yes, but I don’t know how I feel about you being alone for your soulmark appearance.”

“Mom I’ll be _fine.”_ You leaned over and kissed your mother’s cheek swiftly. “I just want this moment to myself. Besides, I was born at 2 AM, nobody is going to want to stay awake that late just to see some words appear on my wrist.”

“I would!”

“Mom, you can’t stay up past 10:30 PM and we both know it,” you laughed. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to help set up for the party. Bye, love you!”

You practically ran out the front door before your mother could say anything else, pulling your coat tighter to you. You picked a few pieces of stray dog hair that had attached itself to the material as you walked to your car. You weren’t sure if the dog hair was from your own dog at home, or if it was from one of the sweet little guys from the animal shelter you volunteered at.

After taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the night sky, you unlocked your car and hopped in, going through the motions of starting up your car and pulling out onto the main highway.

The coast was about a three and a half hour drive away, which would put you sitting on the beach listening to the waves under a starry night sky right as your soulmark was set to appear. Just how you had always imagined it.

The drive was a familiar one, and you put on your favorite driving playlist to pass the time. The playlist mostly consisted of oldies that your dad had listened to with you when you were a child, a few rap songs, and some movie soundtracks that you liked. Nothing too current, honestly. You were so busy with taking online courses, waitressing, and volunteering at the animal shelter that you didn’t put much time into listening to the latest hits on Top 40.

Not that you really liked current pop music. There was this annoying trend going on for the last couple years of songs only about partying and having crazy sex with annoying beat drops in the background that all kind of sounded the same.

Not that there was anything _wrong_ with that kind of music, of course, it just wasn’t really your scene.

Soon enough, your mind started wandering. Your thoughts jumped between ideas of what your soulmark might be, to the apartments you were looking at moving into soon (if you could ever find a roommate, that is), to one of the cats at the shelter that needed to find a home ASAP.

You needed to call the shelter’s photographer on call tomorrow to help with that last one. The young woman was an amazing photographer that, like you, had a soft spot for animals. She’d started offering free shoots for the animals at the shelter that needed to be adopted sooner rather than later, hoping that by having professional photos of them to post on social media people might be more inclined to take them in.

You and the photographer got along well. You’d even talked about soulmarks recently when she heard that your twentieth birthday was coming up.

(The photographer had yet to meet her soulmate, but her mark read, ‘ _Wait, please_!’)

Realizing that you were thinking about work and responsibilities instead of just enjoying a peaceful drive to the beach, you decided you needed a change of pace. Not taking your eyes off the road, you turned off your driving playlist that had started to repeat and switched on the radio instead.

The song that was playing was …

Utter crap, honestly.

“Ugh,” you muttered to yourself, wincing at the overuse of bass and a chord progression that sounded suspiciously exactly like that recent Chainsmokers song one of the guys at the shelter had played for you the other day.

The male vocals were nice, you guessed. Even if the lyrics were about dicking down some random girl at a club.

Like you’d never heard _that_ song before.

Fortunately, you only had to listen to about a minute of the song before it was over.

“ _Alright that was the one and only V on his brand new collaboration with Elia_!” the radio announcer said as soon as the song was over. “ _Hey, did you hear the latest news about our dear heartthrob V_?” he asked his cohost.

“ _No_ ,” the female announcer responded with an overdramatic gasp. You rolled your eyes. “ _What is it?_ ”

_“Paparazzi caught sight of his soulmark the other day.”_

That time, you gasped alongside the female announcer. A celebrity soulmark sighting was _awful_ , everyone ought to agree on that. There were countless horror stories of fans knowing their idol’s soulmark and saying the words to them and even faking their own soulmarks to try and trick them into a relationship. It was a nightmare scenario.

“ _No way_!” the female announcer said even _more_ dramatically. “ _I can’t believe it, poor V. But also, like … what’s his mark say? Just out of curiosity of course._ ”

While you curled your lip in disgust, the two announcers laughed together. You felt gross just listening to them discuss the celebrity’s soulmark like this, they had no respect for the sanctity of the marks.

You didn’t even know the celebrity (V, or something? Who names themselves a letter?), but no one deserved to have their mark discussed so flippantly. It was just plain disrespectful.

_“According to the picture, his mark says—”_

You turned the radio off.

“Assholes,” you muttered under your breath.

You decided to take the last twenty minutes of the drive in silence, thinking of your soulmark and who your soulmate might be.

Honestly, you weren’t picky at all. You trusted the soulmark system, and believed with all your heart that the person that had _your_ first words to them tattooed on _their_ wrist was going to be just right for you. You didn’t care what they looked like or did for a living, you knew they would be enough no matter what.

The thought made you smile softly. You had a person out there designed just for you. It was unbelievable, but in the best kind of way.

Finally you arrived at the secluded beach, parking close to the sand under a streetlight. You stretched as you stepped out of your car, grabbing your blanket and a flashlight and taking off your shoes before running towards the water.

You didn’t care that you probably looked crazy running onto the beach at almost 2 AM by yourself — not that there was anyone around to see, anyways. You were _excited_. This was the moment you’d been waiting for for _twenty_ _years_.

In just minutes you were situated at the edge of the water, just close enough to feel the sea spray as the tide rolled in. You checked the time on your phone.

Just a few seconds to go. You held the flashlight up to focus on the inside of your left wrist, cheeks hurting from grinning so much.

And then it was appearing. Black lines slowly came into view and then suddenly … it was there.

The first words your soulmate would ever say to you.

_‘Do you even know who I am, you psycho?’_

You blinked.

“Well then,” you muttered to yourself, looking back out to the sea again, but this time with a decidedly _not_ so ecstatic expression. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

***

**A YEAR AND A HALF LATER**

“Dude, you know you can go out and actually _do stuff_ , right? Not sure how you’re getting ‘inspiration’ by being holed up in my apartment all day.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes as Jimin searched for his keys. He’d been staying at his best friend’s apartment for the past few weeks after finally calling it quits with the company that had treated him like shit for so long. He'd stayed in his own lavish home for a while, but paparazzi knew where he lived and acted like damn vultures those first few months after the news broke.

Taehyung wanted to actually disappear and go off the grid, and his friendship with Jimin had stayed off the radar for the past few years, so his friend had gladly offered to let him stay at his place until he figured out his next move. 

Not that Taehyung had any idea what his next move was. He knew he had to keep making music or he’d go crazy, but he just wasn’t ready to sign his creativity over to someone else again.

“You know I can’t do that,” Taehyung retorted, scratching Jimin’s dog Chim behind the ears as the little mutt lounged on his lap. “I can’t risk being recognized.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, turning to face his friend head on. “They make things called _masks_ , genius.”

“Hey you’re the one who said I could come stay with you as long as I needed to.”

“And I meant it,” Jimin affirmed, checking his pink hair in the mirror by the front door. Being a hairdresser, Jimin did this annoyingly often. “You can. But you’ve got to get out and _do_ something, Tae. Come with me to the salon, or go to the movies, or busk at the subway station. Do _something_ , man.”

“While busking at the dirty subway station _does_ sound appealing,” Taehyung deadpanned, “I’m just … I’m nervous, Jimin. I don’t know how to be … normal anymore.”

Jimin turned back to his friend sympathetically. He didn’t understand Taehyung’s dilemma at all, but he could recognize fear and pain when he saw it. Subconsciously, he rubbed at the thick leather bracelet covering his left wrist.

(Jimin hadn’t met his soulmate yet, but his mark read, ‘ _Stop right there!_ ’ and he already hated himself for the way he was apparently going to inspire fear in the person he was supposed to love and cherish.)

“Well if it makes you feel any better,” Jimin finally said, making an excited noise as he finally found his keys, “You were never really normal. _But_ ,” he held up his finger when Taehyung started to protest childishly, “I think that’s part of your charm. Now put on a face mask and go on a walk with Chim. My house, my rules, go do it.”

“Jiminie, I—”

“Nope! No arguments! There’s a really nice dog park two blocks down! Bye!”

Jimin slipped out the door before Taehyung could say another word.

“Jackass,” Taehyung murmured without any real bite. Chim looked up at him with his adorable big brown eyes. “Not you,” he assured the dog. “Just your dumb owner.”

Chim whined, cocking his head to the side. One of his ears stuck up, while the other flopped down. It was ridiculous how cute the mutt was.

“Ack, fine. You want to go on a walk, Chimmy? Not like I’m exactly stewing in song-writing inspiration now, right?”

Chim barked.

“Gee thanks, bud.”

And that was how Taehyung started his daily walks to the dog park with Chim. 

***

“I’m going to murder him,” you seethed.

The shelter's photographer just laughed, not even taking her eye away from her camera as she took shots of the pitbull puppy that had just been brought to the shelter last week. 

“You’re not going to murder anyone,” your friend said.

“Oh yes I am. I’ve tried to catch him three times now, but I keep missing him by just minutes!”

“How do you know that?”

“The poop is still warm when I get there.”

“ _Ew_!” Your friend did look away from her camera at that comment, scrunching up her nose. “That’s _disgusting_ , Y/N.”

“Yeah I know!” you retorted, walking over and picking up the puppy, holding him tight to your chest. “There’s signs everywhere in the dog park. ‘ _Clean up after your dog,’ ‘Please dispose of your dog’s waste here,’ ‘Dog waste bags available at the entrance of the park_.’ And yet does this person clean up after their dog? No!”

“How do you know it’s the same person doing it?” your friend asked, letting her camera hang from the strap around her neck as she scratched the top of the puppy’s head.

“I can tell,” you said matter-of-factly. “It’s the same poop pattern.”

Your friend cackled at that, which stirred the puppy in your arms. “That’s so gross.”

“I’ve stepped in it like five times already,” you told her, gritting your teeth. “Everyone around here respects the rule, so whoever has been letting their dog poop in the park and then not clean it up for the past couple weeks is a newbie. And I’m going to track him down and give him a piece of my mind!”

“How do you know it’s a he?” your friend asked, taking the puppy from you and repositioning him in her makeshift photoshoot set once again. 

“Oh I just know.”

“Don’t tell me you saw his poop pattern, too?”

“Aish, shut up and take the pictures!” 

***

Taehyung hummed under his breath as he led Chim down the street towards the dog park.

Even though Taehyung would never admit it to Jimin, his friend’s suggestion of walking Chim had been really, _really_ good for him. It had helped him to realize that three years of fame and concerts and tours and events and press had left Taehyung with little to no schedule or routine in his life. 

And Taehyung _liked_ routine, he was discovering. He liked being able to know or at least have an idea of what the next day held. He liked going on walks and not having to make an event of it, or care what he looked like or what brands of clothes or shoes he was wearing because paparazzi photos would imply that he was promoting them, and so on, and so on.

He liked normalcy. At least small pieces of it.

And he liked Chim. Taehyung and the dog had become the best of friends in the past three weeks of daily walks together, a fact which Jimin was only slightly jealous of.

It was nice. And oddly enough, it was giving Taehyung inspiration for all sorts of new sounds and songs.

For three years Taehyung had gone on expensive retreats to try and find song-writing inspiration (not that his company had ever listened to any of his ideas after the success of his first EP), and now he was finding loads of it just walking his friend’s dog down the street for free. 

Such a simple task was giving Taehyung an entirely new perspective. It was his favorite thing to do, which was absolutely mind boggling considering he was a literal millionaire that could do just about anything he wanted.

He liked this change of pace though.

“Ah-ah, _no_ , Chim,” he said as the dog started to tug at his leash. “Come on bud, we go over this every day.” 

At the halfway point to the dog park, they passed a local animal shelter. It was close to the road, so Chim always heard dogs barking or saw someone in the parking lot with their animal. He rarely barked himself, but always tugged on his leash to try and get closer.

“Come on, Chimmie, let’s go.”

With a huff, Taehyung did what he usually ended up doing and just reached down and picked up the dog, tucking him under his arm to walk him away from the sight of the shelter.

But as he stood back up, he glanced over to the shelter and froze.

As you stepped out of the building leading a medium sized golden retriever puppy, talking to it softly, Taehyung found himself unable to look away.

You were smiling, talking with the clearly skittish dog in a soothing voice. Your skin seemed to glow as the sun shone down on you and you were objectively stunning, even in plain jeans and a purple tee.

As if sensing that you were being watched, you glanced up from the dog you were working with to look up at Taehyung standing on the sidewalk.

Taehyung stiffened, looking away and walking with Chim down the street once more. It had been an instinct reaction, fearing that he had been recognized.

Then he remembered that he was wearing a mask and felt like an idiot for not looking at you for another moment more.

***

“Hey, _hey_!”

Your friend jumped as you came flying around the corner, almost dropping her camera in the process.

“You scared me!” she said with a hand on her chest to catch her breath. “What is it? What’s wrong”

“Can you get this sweet guy back into his crate? I have to go catch him!”

“Catch _who_?” your friend asked, taking the leash of the golden retriever you handed over to her. 

“The dog poop guy!” you shouted, voice fading as you took off back out the door. “I’m finally gonna catch the dog poop guy!”

***

“Alright Chim,” Taehyung muttered, voice slightly muffled beneath his mask. “Go ahead, do your business.”

Chim looked up at him with those adorable puppy dog eyes of his.

“Seriously? We go over this everyday. I’m not watching. And there’s no one else even here!” Taehyung gestured around to the empty park. It was a Monday around 10 o’clock in the morning, which meant the park was empty save for the two of them.

“Fine,” he muttered after a few more seconds of Chim staring at him. He leaned down and unclicked Chim's leash since there were no other dogs around, to which Chim yipped excitedly about. “Go ahead bud, the world is your poop yard.”

Chim took off in a run around the fence as Tae sat atop the wooden picnic table and looked around.

It was a beautiful day. The weather was mild enough to wear short sleeves, the sun was shining but not overbearing, and it was a quiet area.

 _This_ was the normalcy he had been craving. After years of being on the road and constantly working with no real fulfillment, this was the contentment he had actually been striving for.

He let out a deep breath, leaning back on his palms and looking up at the clouds. He began humming a new melody under his breath, the words to a song that was almost finished just lacking … _something_.

He managed to hum for just a few more seconds when he heard the gate open.

Taehyung snapped his head up to make sure Chim hadn’t run out, but the person coming in had already closed it behind them.

And it was … you. The girl from the shelter. Except this time you didn’t have the golden retriever with you.

Out of habit, Taehyung lifted a hand to make sure his mask was still in place.

Chim barked excitedly, running to greet the stranger.

“Easy, buddy,” Taehyung called out to the dog as he ran around your legs. You kept walking towards Taehyung, making sure not to step on Chim in the meantime.

Taehyung hopped off of the picnic table and opened his mouth to say hello or … something, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say honestly, he hadn’t spoken to anyone but Jimin in almost a month.

But before he could speak, you beat him to the punch.

“It’s _you_!”

Taehyung froze as you marched up and pointed in his face.

He’d heard those words from countless crazed fans since his soulmark had leaked. The words that were supposed to fill him with joy at finding his soulmate now filled him with dread.

How the hell had you recognized him with a mask on and his hair a different color than his last paparazzi sighting?

“ _You_ are the poop guy!”

Taehyung blinked.

 _What the hell?_ he thought to himself. He tried to speak, but you didn't give him the chance.

“For three weeks I’ve been bringing the shelter dogs here to play and do you know how many times I have stepped in your dog’s poop?”

Taehyung opened his mouth.

“Seven times!” you shrieked. “Seven times and now two of my favorite pairs of shoes are ruined because they are cloth and I can’t get rid of the poop smell. Can you _read_?”

Once again, Taehyung tried to speak.

“There are signs!” you yelled, gesturing around the park. “Three signs as a matter of fact! The park even has bags for you to use! It takes five seconds to clean up after your dog! It’s common _courtesy_!”

Your voice was as shrieky as ever, and your shoulders heaved as you caught your breath.

“Well?” you asked, throwing your hands up in the air. “Aren’t you going to say anything? An apology will suffice, but I prefer a promise to start being polite and cleaning up after your dog.”

Taehyung swallowed thickly and you tracked the movement. You couldn’t see the majority of his face because he was wearing a mask over his mouth, but he was built well and had cute fluffy brown hair hanging over his forehead.

 _Doesn’t matter if he’s cute, he’s not following common dog-owner courtesy,_ you scolded yourself.

Slowly, he reached up and tugged off his mask.

 _Aw crap,_ you thought. _He’s not just cute, he’s model level_ hot _._

And he was. His facial features were striking, you’d honestly never seen anyone as attractive as him. But you stood your ground, focusing on the fact that he had ruined two pairs of your favorite shoes and made you give four of the shelter dogs a bath because they had rolled around in _his_ dog’s poop. Hot or not, that was unacceptable.

Finally, he spoke (not that you had given him much opportunity to until now).

“Do you even know who I am,” Taehyung asked softly, genuinely curious.

But before he finished speaking, he remembered that you had just yelled at him like a crazy person without even letting him defend himself.

“—you _psycho_?”

Your jaw dropped as the now annoyingly attractive man leveled up in his own irritation.

You briefly registered in the back of your mind that _oh shit, this is my soulmate,_ but quite frankly your soulmate was being a _dick_!

“It’s a dog park!” Taehyung shouted. “Dogs poop! How hard is it to look down and see where you’re stepping?”

“I shouldn’t have to look down where I’m stepping!” you shot back. “If all dogs pooped here without their owners cleaning up after them, it would be _anarchy_!”

“Poop is biodegradable!”

“ _What_?! It takes dog poop like three months to decompose!”

“Well that’s … longer than I thought!” he admitted, still yelling. “It doesn’t matter, you shouldn’t be screaming at strangers!”

“You’re not a stranger, you’re my _soulmate_!”

Taehyung blinked, mouth slightly agape. You realized your mistake.

“I mean, I-I don’t know who you are,” you muttered. “But you said the words, so — oh and _by the way_ , rude first words to say to your other half!”

You held up your left wrist, showing your soulmate your mark.

‘ _Do you even know who I am, you psycho?_ ’

Taehyung winced.

After the shouting match, the quiet between the two of you seemed oddly profound. 

“Do you … do you actually know who I am though?” he asked quietly.

You raised your eyebrow. “Other than my soulmate and the guy who lets his dog poop freely in a public place? Uh, no, I don’t.”

Taehyung let out a deep breath, laughing softly.

“Good, that’s … good,” he said quietly, his striking eyes looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes. “Sorry about the dog poop.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m really not. If it makes you feel any better, it’s not my dog.”

“That has nothing to do with it!”

“Do you always yell so much?!”

“No I’m usually very pleasant!”

“Well you could’ve fooled me!”

“Well ask me on a date and I’ll prove it to you!”

“Fine, do you want to have dinner tonight?!”

“Yes, there’s a good restaurant next to my apartment we can go to!”

“That sounds great! By the way you’re really pretty, I hope you know that!”

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

“I hope it doesn’t freak you out, but I’m actually a famous musician and my stage name is V!”

“Wait, what?”

You stepped back in shock at his declaration and right into a big, fresh pile of —

“Ack! For fuck’s sake, clean up after your _damn_ dog!”

You wanted to hate him for laughing so hard, but after looking at his boxy smile and the way his dog (okay not _his_ dog, but still) was running around his feet yipping excitedly … you just couldn’t do it.

Your soulmark wasn’t exactly the most flattering, but … you had a feeling the man on the other side of it was going to turn out to be perfect for you.

Even if he did continue to laugh as you scraped the dog poop off the bottom of yet _another_ new pair of shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For every comment and kudos and comment I will blow a kiss to the most adorable boy in the world, Kim Taehyung.  
> ~kookitykook

**Author's Note:**

> Every kudos and comment equals heart eyes for Kim Namjoon. 
> 
> ~kookitykook


End file.
